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And this was Conor.
“I think Mickey knows it was us . . . or, at least, me.”
“Jesus fuck.”
“He’s sure someone in Holloway betrayed him and is positive it wasn’t Bailey and Finn. Said there’s no way the Borellos could’ve known all they did without help from our end. That’s why he stayed away these last weeks since he got out. He said he had everyone watched during that time.”
Beck visibly stilled. “Tell me it was you watching us,” he pleaded.
My expression was answer enough, because Beck hissed a curse and dragged his hands through his hair again.
“Tommy?” I murmured, waiting until I had his attention to continue. “He didn’t skip out. He never had the chance. Mickey had him killed because he thought Tommy was going to.”
“The fuck? Tommy worshipped him more than any of the others.”
“He’s losing it,” I said in agreement. “He’s unpredictable right now. I’m worried about his next move if this is what he’s already done.”
“You said you think he knows,” Beck said, the unspoken question lingering in the air.
I forced myself to hold his stare. “He has to know. He’s only back now because he’s untouchable.”
“Fuck no, he’s not,” Beck bit out. “Slit his goddamn throat and let’s finish this, or I’ll see you in hell . . . yeah?” When I didn’t respond, unease crept over Beck’s face. “Are we not seeing each other in hell?”
“Beck . . . he’s got
a safeguard. If he dies, there’re orders for someone to be taken out immediately. And I’m not the silencer, so I can’t stop it.”
Beck’s gaze darted over my stance, lingering on my shaking fists for a few seconds before moving back to my face. “Who?”
I clenched my jaw for a few seconds then breathed out, “Conor.”
My lips froze with a teasing grin in place when a familiar black SUV drove slowly down my street the next evening.
Don’t stop.
Don’t stop.
I wasn’t sure I took a breath or blinked during the time it took for the SUV to disappear around the corner a couple blocks down.
But just when my heart started to beat normally and my body loosened up again, the vehicle had returned and was crawling down the street toward me.
No.
My chest tightened like someone was trying to steal my air as I stared at the offending car now waiting ten feet away.
As though if I stared long enough, it would disappear.
As though if I wished hard enough . . . this might all go away.
Weak. So, so weak.
Head up.
Shoulders back.
Lips twisted.
Eyes laughing.
